Dactyloscopy
by madame.alexandra
Summary: A fancy, scientific word for 'fingerprinting', and a story about the Geek marking the Goth. McAbby/Fluff.


_A/N: I've never written McAbby and I do not know where this came from. Blame it on insomnia, and some quote I sleepily heard Abby say in the season 4 episode 'Once a Hero'._

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><p>Abby Sciuto sighed, content, as she relaxed on her stomach. She rested her cheek on her arms, for they were folded neatly beneath her head. In the private moment, her black hair was loose and lazily resting about her neck and shoulders, occasionally pushed aside by a warm, familiar hand.<p>

Her green eyes popped open and she crinkled her nose, smiling, though her smile couldn't be seen; it was hidden in the creamy white crook of her elbow.

"You're slacking," she teased. "Massages aren't supposed to be light and fluffy and tickly."

He shifted towards her, shrugging, the side of his head cradled in his palm.

"Sorry," he said. "I got distracted."

"By what?" Abby asked, closing her eyes primly. "I don't have any _new_ tattoos."

"I know," said Timothy McGee, placing his hand back on her spine. "But I like to try and trace every single inch of the cross," he confessed, his fingertip running down her spine, picking up where it had left off.

"Ambitious," she said, peeking at him. "Why?" she asked, interested.

She rolled onto her side and mimicked his head-in-one-palm position, the sheets pooling a little between them. There was plenty of room this time 'round, since he had managed to convince her his bed was more inviting than her coffin.

"Uh," McGee fumbled. He shrugged, looking confused. "I guess cause I've never done it before."

"Really?" she asked, raising her black eyebrows. She bit her bottom lip, and though the black lipstick was faded and rubbed off, it still left a smidge of soot on her front tooth. "Huh," she mused. "You've had plenty of opportunities," she said suggestively.

"I always fall asleep," he said.

"Yeah, I'm hard to keep up with, Timmy," she giggled, wrinkling her nose at him again.

She tapped her fingers on the sheets between them, tilting her head. Her green eyes lit up impishly and she stuck her tongue between her teeth, arching her brows up.

"Hey, want to get forensic?" she asked provocatively.

He looked at her skeptically.

"Do I?" he retorted apprehensively.

The last time he had agreed to something in bed that he hadn't heard of before, he had [sort of] regretted it.

Abby laughed.

"It's harmless," she said, straightening her shoulders. "A little kinky—but don't let Tony trick you in to telling him this time."

McGee grumbled under his breath and glared at her half-heartedly. She pursed her lips.

"So how do we get forensic?" he asked indulgently.

"Easy," Abby said, lowering her voice. "You touch me."

"That's forensics? I thought that was just sex."

"Hey, Timmy, not _all_ touching involves sex," she said, giving him a look. "Or I am a very, _very_ promiscuous whore," she snorted. She tilted her head at him and her eyes sparkled again. "I'm talking about fingerprints," she said huskily.

He listened, interested.

"Fingerprints," he repeated, feeling out the word.

She nodded, gracefully moving closer, her shoulders lifting as she held herself up a little higher than him.

"You said you wanted to leave no part of that cross untouched," she remained him. "Well," she coaxed seductively. "Why not leave no part of _me_ untouched?"

He reached out and started to touch her fingers where they were splayed on the sheets.

McGee ran his hands over them slowly, gently, watching the tiny hairs rise up in reaction. He stroked her wrist, paid all kinds of unusual attention to it—every speck of skin he saw, and even didn't see, was touched.

"Like this?" he asked seriously. He paid homage to the other hand, and then his fingers moved slowly up her arm. She looked down at his confident hand and nodded, smiling.

Abby relaxed, lying down, her arms extended towards him. She let him move up her arm, reaching her shoulder, and then he began to massage gently, near her collarbone, towards her pack, his hand touching all he could.

"You're gonna have to come closer," he said, smirking at her.

Abby giggled and sat up with a mock sigh. She stretched an arm over him and let the sheets slip as she eased over him tangling the cotton between them. He laughed.

"This isn't going to be easy," he pointed out, tugging at the sheets.

She kissed his mouth slowly, her nose pressing into his cheek.

"It's a _challenge_, Timmy," she pointed out snarkily. "I can't just get all naked and spread eagled."

He snorted at the comical thought and reached up to cup her face, sliding his hands down her neck, strumming the spider web tattoo, her pulse, his fingertips grazing over her throat and jaw; exploring everything.

"Shouldn't we lay down some rules?" he asked distractedly.

She pressed against him, her body warm and comfortable.

"Mmm," she mumbled. "This is really erotic," she said in a low alto, her voice like slowly melting chocolate. His hands grazed over her shoulders and lower to her breasts, where he slowed; teasing.

She lowered her head to his shoulder, brushing her lips against his skin.

He tilted his head back, closing his eyes. He preferred to just touch her, without looking. He knew her body well enough to know where he had been, and where he had not been.

"This isn't kinky, Abby," he said smugly. "_You're_ slacking," he teased.

She snickered, her mouth moving against his shoulder.

"Oh, Timmy," she murmured. "This is half the battle."

"What?" he asked, only a little wary.

He moved his hands lower, eyes still closed, feeling her quick catch of breath rather than hearing it. She giggled again, and he smiled, taking a break from the feather-like massaging to poke her in the ribs.

The naked Gothic scientist relented.

"When you're done putting your hands all over me," she explained in his ear. "You're going to dust me for prints. And any part you missed is the _only_ part I'll let you touch for the next week, whether it be here," she reached between them and moved his hand below her navel, batting her eyelashes. She nipped his ear. "Or the crook of my elbow."

McGee opened his eyes and sat up a little, taking his hand back. He took on a look of concentration and pulled her against his chest, suddenly taking this silly, kinky, "getting forensic" thing very seriously.

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><p><em>I generally don't technically 'ship McAbby because-face it. We all know they end up together.<em>

_-Alexandra, who's taken a leave of her Jibbs senses. _


End file.
